Downfall
by WhiteWings9
Summary: Arthur smokes his last cigarette before the demon could claim him. Angels & Demons!AU; mortal!Arthur and demon!Gilbert.


**Downfall**

The demon fell as if from the heavens onto the runes chalked to the chapel floor.

He stepped easily through the debris, conjuring a set of clothes around his nakedness with an air of one out for a stroll; hands folded behind his back, legs swinging in slow, exaggerated movements. Not hurried, not concerned, yet his eyes burned with a hungry gleam, betraying his anticipation as he neared his quarry.

He dragged a chair across the glass-strewn floor and set it right in front of Arthur, sitting and leaning far back, managing to look comfortable even against the stiff back. He stared down at Arthur who sat against an upturned pew, legs splayed on the floor, arms thrown to his sides, blood pouring thickly down one side of his face.

"So we have come to this," the demon spoke.

Arthur's eyes slowly rose from the demon's black patent leather shoes, following the neat trouser creases of his all-white suit to the plain silk tie. Past the gold clip and the neat Windsor knot, past the lips stretched to a thin leer, he found those unnaturally red eyes narrowed to mirthless slits.

"You're late," he said. Or rather he would have except that all that came out was soundless rasp.

"Ooh, that's a nasty cough," Gilbert said with a mock shudder as Arthur dissolved into a hacking fit. He watched as Arthur dug out a packet of cigarettes and pulled out a stick with his teeth, raised an enquiring eyebrow. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"You got a light?"

Gilbert produced a Zippo – gold, of course – and flicked it open. Arthur bent forward to light his cigarette, but Gilbert pulled it away at the last moment and took to waving the little flame around just beyond Arthur's reach, stilling his hand only when he extracted from Arthur an annoyed look. His leer widened into a wolf-ish grin as Arthur caught the flame and took a deep pull on his cigarette.

Arthur sat back, letting out a thin stream of smoke from between gritted teeth, and Gilbert snapped his lighter shut.

"You know why I have come."

Arthur did not respond immediately. He took a slow drag of his cigarette and exhaled another cloud of smoke, looking as though he was thinking over Gilbert's words.

"You came because I called," he said at last.

Gilbert's smirk faltered for the barest moment.

"You came because I called, because you are bound to me."

"And now _you_ are bound to _me_!"

Gilbert leapt from his seat and was inches from Arthur's face in a blink of an eye. The hunger burned brighter and colder than ever as his eyes bore into Arthur's unperturbed green.

"How shall I reap you?" he whispered.

He leaned in close as if for a kiss but Arthur turned to his side, puffing on his cigarette. He settled for sniffing along Arthur's blood-crusted jaw line.

"I shall enjoy every second of it," he murmured as he buried his nose into the crook of Arthur's neck. "I shall draw it out nice and long. Make you last. Taste all of you, every last morsel and drop of blood." His tongue darted out for a lick of Arthur, a small taster that had him swooning, "Oh you will be my most delicious meal yet! I will rip from your throat every sound it is capable of making before I am done."

Arthur had to suppress a smile.

"Well, what's keeping you? Or are you simply going to talk me to death?"

Gilbert's eyes were narrowed as he drew away.

"In your own time, _mortal_," he spat.

The cigarette crackled as Arthur took one last pull. He stubbed out the end on the floor and took the hand Gilbert offered him.

Instead of being helped to his feet, however, Gilbert twisted his arm around and began dragging him on his back across the floor, whistling a cheerful tune. Arthur did not protest. He lay on the floor and allowed himself be towed along the broken glass and ashes. When they reached the chalk runes, Gilbert dropped his prize and dusted off his spotless suit.

"This might hurt a little," he said as he pulled a dagger out of thin air. He allowed himself to grin again, his arrogance returning with the prospect of victory.

Arthur did not answer. He simply lay where he had been dropped, looking for all the world as if he was already dead with his eyes closed.

Gilbert kicked his lifeless body over to the center of the runes. Once he was happy he knelt down and brought the dagger over Arthur's chest in preparation for a ritual sacrifice; a few muttered words, and the air stirred and sizzled with energy as the portal prepared to open. Gilbert brought the dagger high above his head, sighing the last of the incantations as the wind whipped back his hair and the flaps of his suit jacket.

"See you in hell!" he cried, drunk on glee and bloodlust.

The blade plunged for Arthur's heart.

There was a flash of white.

Then, nothing.


End file.
